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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25496458">The Reverse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenReiss/pseuds/RenReiss'>RenReiss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead by Daylight (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dark, Derealization, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Canon, Psychological Horror, Psychosis, Thriller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:53:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25496458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenReiss/pseuds/RenReiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed the nightmare was over - they were able to return to the rut of normal life so that what happened began to feel like a bad dream.<br/>Now he realizes that the Entity didn't leave them alone even for a second.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dwight Fairfield/David King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Reverse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494835">Реверс</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenReiss/pseuds/RenReiss">RenReiss</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm not a native speaker, but I've translated one of my Russian fics ;w;/</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Don't you feel good?” - smooth whisper becomes a satisfied rumbling, dissolving in the darkness of the night, while David feels an almost admiring look on himself, burning right through him. “Is there something I wouldn’t have done to please you?”</p><p>The man barely restrains a groan as the wet tongue slowly touches the thin dark strip on his chest and draws it up, leaving a trail of saliva and blood. A ripple in a new cut is all he feels - <i>damn adrenaline, fucking tramadol</i> - David lets out a hoarse laugh, thinking of it like it’s a shitty title for some slobbery record.</p><p>Dwight's thighs are impatiently pressed against his own. He rubs against him with his whole body, shuddering, as if from withdrawal, and whispers something frantically. King knows what it is.</p><p>
  <i>Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmef----</i>
</p><p>And he does the thing what he is asked.<br/>
Gritting his teeth, David abruptly turns the guy sitting on top onto his back, lifting his legs and pushes forward, without thinking about how the warmth from the opened wounds flows down, mixing with sweat and leaving brown spots on the sheets.</p><p>
  <i>He will burn it later, just like before.</i>
</p><p>It only takes few seconds to press Fairfield's arms against the pillow and force him to drop the blade, biting into his lips with a hard, sting-like kiss.</p><p>A metallic clang and moan scratch his skull. Hammering the guy into bed, David reassures himself this is more or less okay - one can never know what games they can afford - it’s not their first day together.</p><p>
  <i>He knows nothing is fucking okay.</i>
</p><p>But which one of them goes <i>true</i> mad?</p><p>***<br/>
The jingle in the keyhole sounds deafeningly loud in the silence, which absorbs the sound of his breathing like a sponge. The apartment, shrouded in silence and immersed in darkness, looks dead to him.</p><p>
  <i>What a crappy pun.</i>
</p><p>David puts on the floor the plastic bag with the fancy 'Tiny’s Tipple' logo, leaves the keys in the pocket of his jacket, which smells of tobacco bitterness, puts it off, and throws somewhere in the darkness. Judging by the muffled sound, he missed this time, but the man crosses the hallway with an unstable gait and stands at the half-open door of the bedroom for a long time, holding his breath, not daring to enter - nevertheless, he should finally have some rest.</p><p>
  <i>You'd rather wake up soon, Dwight.</i>
</p><p>Silently turning around, King goes to the kitchen, ignoring the jacket lying on the floor, takes out a bottle from the fridge, and generously splashes its contents into a glass, sitting down at the table without turning on the light. The headlights of passing cars cannot break through the dense fabric of the curtain, which cuts him off from the outside world.</p><p>David barely sleeps <i>lately.</i></p><p>Alcohol burns the tongue, he pushes it further down the throat, allowing to fall into the stomach, which immediately protests and responds with nausea. However, after a deep breath and a second sip, this feeling <i>is also gone</i>.</p><p>The peculiarity of vodka is there is no euphoria from it unlike from other alcohol - it turns you inside out, revealing all your guts to the world, and leaves you crying powerlessly on the floor from the realization of your<br/>
insignificance.<br/>
Or vomiting.<br/>
Or crying in a puddle of your vomit, why not everything at once.</p><p>David hasn't been sober <i>for a long time.</i></p><p>He looks around, dimly focusing on certain objects - a sink, a microwave oven, a shelf with spices...<br/>
Everything is so dear and absolutely hateful at the same time.</p><p>David remembers the first time they came here after getting out of <i>There.</i></p><p>How Dwight peered into every room cautiously as if expecting a killer to appear from around the corner at any moment.<br/>
How they ate pizza, laughing, sitting on the bare floor because the careless transporter mistook furniture delivery dates.<br/>
How they made love almost everywhere, including every piece of this very furniture when it was finally brought in.</p><p>The apartment, which he was never particularly fond of, really became home. Where they were happy.</p><p>
  <i>They could be happy.</i>
</p><p>David drinks the rest of the vodka in a big gulp and squeezes the head with his hands - it feels like if pierced with a thin red-hot awl from the inside. Itching burning in temples is annoying. King comes to his senses only at the moment when the glass fragments slip out of his bloody hands.</p><p>He stares at them blankly for a while, without moving, and it reminds him of his own life - you don’t notice how everything that seemed unshakable is shattered into smithereens one day.</p><p>***</p><p>David had no idea how they came to this at all. The world of the Entity dictated its own rules - one way or another, you had to adapt. The scenario was played out quite definite - one could only survive and hope that one day it would all end.<br/>
However, despite the absence of hunger or thirst each of them had other physical needs, and each coped within their way, whether it was lone wanking on a tree trunk, or an arthouse orgy in the best traditions of Siffredi.</p><p>Being in a looped world with the same people for a long time, you stop tormenting yourself with issues of moral choice. The feeling of shame or the wrongness of what is happening gradually disappears - you are just guided by your preferences.<br/>
King didn’t consider himself particularly monogamous - simply, being possessive, he decided it would be much more convenient to have a more or less permanent partner.<br/>
And Fairfield was there <i>just in time.</i></p><p>At first, it was a deal - mutually beneficial, and without pretensions to anything more. Dwight wanted at least <i>to feel</i> protected — King could easily give it to him. In turn, Specs was trying to take care of him, although he wasn’t asked, and it was quite ... touching?</p><p>At first, David joked that people like him are usually getting something in their ass, and not getting married, why he was trying so hard?</p><p>But at the moment, when he wanted to break Park’s arm, when he was trying to take Dwight to the "session", David realized <i>it’s the hit.</i></p><p>King wasn’t a fool, so, he didn’t deny the obvious things: when your embrace becomes more gentle, and someone else's death feels more painful than before, it means only one thing. As much as he thought falling in love was the worst idea, it was the connection that became a release for them in a world where there was nothing but an endless cycle of pain.<br/>
He could say that he even began to get used to it, until one day the sun rose over the changed forest, and all of them crawled into the light like newborn kittens - confused and not believing in salvation.</p><p>It seemed the nightmare was over - they were able to return to the rut of normal life so that what happened began to feel like a bad dream. Now he realizes that the Entity did not leave them alone even for a second. Like a cancerous tumor, it lurked, biding its time - and then struck.</p><p>She was tired of playing with her puppets within a confined space - she wanted to move to a larger area.<br/>
***<br/>
<i>You never let us go, bitch, huh?</i></p><p>David lets out a ragged chuckle with a sob as he gets up and dumps the shards into the bin. <i>Lately,</i> the nerves are dead shot.<br/>
The man goes to the bathroom and turns the switch after a moment's hesitation. The cold water burns the cuts as he stares blankly at the pinkish trickles running down his fingers into the sink.<br/>
It reminds him of how it all began. Before that King could somehow write off Dwight's changed behavior on hard workdays or his paranoia, which didn’t completely disappear after his return.<br/>
It turned out everything was much worse.</p><p>It was then that he, David King, being a tough guy even for the Creatures in Trials, felt <i>real fear</i> for the first time.<br/>
***<br/>
Even turning on the light, he doesn’t immediately notice Dwight, huddled between the bed and the drawer, however, strange sounds somehow attract his attention.</p><p>The person sits on the floor, shirtless, hunched over in an unnatural, almost spider-like pose, his head bent so low it seems as if his spine has broken in the area of the contracted shoulder blades. Dwight breathes quickly, whispering something under his breath, gasps convulsively and sways in place, emitting hysterical almost non-human whimpers.</p><p>David stops rooted to the spot as if in some kind of trance, looking up and down the striped arms and Fairfield’s bare torso. A large stain of blood has already formed on the floor, spreading right in front of the man's eyes, and at the moment when Dwight lifts his hand again to leave another cut on his forearm, King rushes to him. A knife flashes in front of his face, the guy mechanically puts in front of him - but he is already weak enough, so one sharp blow is enough to knock the blade out of Fairfield's hand.</p><p>When he finally turns his hazy gaze to David, a chill ripples through the man's body, leaving a cold sweat on his back. The guy's eyes are completely strange, inhuman. Dilated pupils dart from side to side, and a satisfied smile plays on his face.<br/>
It only lasts for a few seconds, and then the glamor vanishes and Dwight seems to shut down. The whole next hour King remembers vaguely - how he put the unconscious guy to bed, how he examined and washed his cuts, disinfected, applied a tourniquet and bandages ...</p><p>He spends the night by his bed, with his eyes wide open. During his watch, Fairfield only wakes up once, turning his head and looking at the man with his sad brown eyes.</p><p>“It hurts,” he whispers with his lips only and falls back into unconsciousness again, immediately after David injects him with alfentanil. His hands tremble as he draws on the right dose for not overdoing it - but what else can he do, other than coping with the things that have helped him more than once after returning from underground fights? When Fairfield wakes up in the morning, he can’t remember or explain anything, and the man can’t call an ambulance - there would have been too many questions.</p><p>But King is sure: Dwight would never have done anything like this <i>by himself.</i><br/>
***<br/>
David tries to call everyone whose numbers he has in the address book, knowing that what is happening isn’t normal at all.</p><p>
  <i>A metallic and polite voice on the phone announces that Kate's number is no longer in service.<br/>
Meg's lively and rough voice says that it’s no longer her problem and demands to never fucking call her again.</i>
</p><p>After a while, the story repeats itself. The number of scars on Dwight's body is growing, so leaving him alone at home is dangerous.</p><p>Time after time, David desperately presses cellphone buttons, but it only spits out scattered, awkward sounds, combining into words in his head, and only confirming that no one will help them.</p><p>Dwight only can cry on the man's chest. Kissing the dark strands, King gently lulls him in his arms and, closing his eyes, voicelessly asks for forgiveness for not being able to do anything.</p><p>Thinking soberly becomes <i>unbearable.</i><br/>
***</p><p>“You can go wherever you want,” Dwight grins sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the man putting on the jacket. “As if you ever wondered how I felt.”</p><p>"Stop it," King comments wearily, looking at him. "You've been in this mood for days now, why the fuck?"</p><p>“Ah, so, it’s me, probably hallucinating,”, -the guy sharply throws up his hands, feigning surprise. -”And the spicy messages, of course, were not sent to you too? What's next, cute homemade Snapchat porn?”</p><p>“You’ve taken my phone?” -David looks at Fairfield grimly but then runs his hand over his face, making a painful wry face. “I don't fucking understand anything. Nea <i>never</i> liked guys, forgot? So why …”</p><p>“We're still dating, David, <i>at least for now,</i>” - Dwight's cold voice has the effect of a cold shower. “I don't care about your whores, who knows, maybe this evening I'll have something fun to do too.”</p><p>King would hit any other person for such words, smashing their face with one punch, making them coughing with their blood and teeth, but the sudden rush of anger recedes as quickly as it rolls over. The man takes a deep breath and draws the guy to him, despite his resistance.</p><p>“Look, I don't know <i>what’s up</i> with her ... Maybe she's drunk, or she has problems ... Babe, remember what we had <i>There</i>... We're friends, and if something happens to one of us …”</p><p>Fairfield trembles with indignation at first, but then he suddenly lets out a torn sigh and buries his face in David’s neck.</p><p>“Sorry. I don't know why I am like this either ... I'm just scared ... As if …”</p><p>If only he understood in time what <i>exactly</i> Dwight was afraid of...</p><p>... Meeting with Nea is so lousy that King almost escapes from the cafe after one awkward and sudden kiss.<br/>
***<br/>
Every time a thin blade plunges into a man's skin for a quarter-inch, and phosphenes dance like fiery red streaks on his retina, he tries <i>to understand.</i></p><p>There should be a connection between all this. There must be <i>a pattern.</i></p><p>The fact that Claudette left the university she had dreamed of. The fact that Nea tried to seduce him. The fact of what Meg said. The fact that Dwight ...</p><p>Why is he, David, the only one with whom nothing happened?</p><p><i>… Nothing… happened, right?</i><br/>
***<br/>
Life is too short for a long wait. At some point, he catches himself thinking that he no longer believes in the silver lining, however, if one can make an effort on himself, one can get used to the gray color.</p><p>When Dwight inflicts damage to himself once again, David is trying not to show unnecessary emotions - he is too tired already. As if something inside slammed shut and cut off the oxygen.</p><p>But he loves Fairfield, so he should take care of him.</p><p>And the handcuffs are only needed because he wants to protect him.</p><p>
  <i>Is there something that he wouldn’t do to save him?</i>
</p><p>He spends the rest of the evening in a bar, and <i>for some reason</i> isn’t surprised at all to find Park there, wasting his money with a noisy company. For the rest of the night, he drinks with them, while the Asian guy pats David on the back sympathetically and pours him some whiskey...</p><p>Everything would be fine, but <i>Park couldn’t stand him before.</i></p><p>***<br/>
“So, you think this is a good idea? To tie me up like a dog? Ooh, wait, maybe it’s your secret fantasy?” -the guy goes into a loud hysterical laugh. -You could just say it before, I would have served you in full. Or maybe you’re too shy? You may have a big dick, but what a coward you are, David ... With Jake, we had <i>so much fun</i>. Do you wanna listen to how it was?</p><p>King stands like a rock, silently looking at Fairfield, his fists clenched to white knuckles and a drop of blood slowly dripping from his bitten lip. Then he turns and walks out of the room, closing the door and sliding to the floor. The poisonous tone still resonates in his head with the metallic clink of a chain.<br/>
All these cynical words, so unusual for the delicate and gentle Dwight, scare him, but he can’t do anything about it.</p><p>It's time to call an exorcist.<br/>
***<br/>
David sits into a warm bath with a glass of whiskey. He would like to dismiss reality like an obsession, wash it off like the stuck dirt.</p><p>
  <i>Half a pack of doxylamine completely replaces ice cubes.</i>
</p><p>For a second, King thinks about how pointless it all was. What were they fighting for? What did they survive for? Happiness was thrown to them like a handout for street dogs. Being hungry, they greedily clung to it, without noticing a grain of poison.</p><p>This thought settles inside, like dust that literally <i>chokes.</i><br/>
***<br/>
The human body contains five liters of blood.</p><p>Looking in the mirror, King indifferently examines the intersecting lines of scars on his body. How easy it would probably be for Dwight to tilt the blade a little - and let David drip red, perhaps he wouldn't even notice being under the influence of the anesthetic.</p><p>
  <i>However, Fairfield didn't do it.</i>
</p><p>Even though lately he resembled a heroin addict, he fucked with all might and pleasure, allowing himself to do such things he would be ashamed to even think about in a normal state. Then he fell exhausted and fainted to have disturbing dreams.</p><p>What calmed him more - bloodletting or being violent?</p><p>King didn’t know, but he vividly remembers the moment he gave Fairfield a blade and took off his shirt.<br/>
Just to <i>get him back</i> just for a little while.</p><p>***<br/>
The wall clock ticks deafeningly loudly, as if to the beat of Dwight's often heaving chest. Eyeballs running fast under the eyelids and quivering eyelashes give away restless sleep. David lies beside him, staring thoughtfully at the nonexistent patterns on the ceiling, and then turns to face Fairfield.<br/>
The guy's breath burns his bare chest, and for a moment he allows himself to burrow his nose into his dark hair to breathe in their scent.</p><p>At this moment, it seems that everything is as before - there are no ugly scars, no dull shine of a metallic chain. Dawn will come, and they will wake up in an embrace, kiss and bask in bed for a long time, and then order pizza because they can’t agree on which of them is doing breakfast.</p><p><i>Yes, it will be like that. Exactly.</i><br/>
***<br/>
<i>...You'd rather wake up soon, Dwight.</i></p><p>He tries to interrupt the bitterness of thoughts with the bitterness of whiskey, and then wearily closes his eyes, surrendering to the warm, numbing wave that covers his body.</p><p>Drops falling from a poorly twisted tap crash with a deafening noise on the surface of the water.<br/>
***<br/>
King feels the treacherous tears tremble at the corners of his eyes and roll down his face in hot streams through the broken bridge of his nose. He sits up in bed and stares at Fairfield as intently as if he is trying to memorize every line of his face, every wrinkle, every dimple. To carve out his image in his memory.</p><p>
  <i>People break so easily.</i>
</p><p>David's fingers touch the corner of the pillow with a firm grip, pulling it closer to him, while something inevitably burns the insides and tears his heart to shreds with coal-black claws.</p><p>
  <i>Probably, you are exhausted too.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>...Is there something that I wouldn’t do for your salvation?</i>
</p>
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